The Prank 2: Horseplay
by DetectiveSilence
Summary: sequel to 'The Prank'. Sherlock and John have decided to scare Mycroft, but they seemed to have gotten themselves drugged on the way. Shenanigans and foul-play as the duo try to trick Mycroft, and as always, nothing goes to plan when Mycroft's involved...
1. Chapter 1

**Sequel to 'The Prank'. People asked about Mycroft, so here he is (well, not yet, but give me time, and a crayon). You don't have to read 'The Prank', but it's probably best if you do. Might need some help on how to continue, so please leave me some suggestions in your review, or just review me anyway, criticism welcome! I know the characters are a bit weird, but I blame it on the drug, so there!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock, then he and John would be doing this all the time on screen. But I don't, so you'll have to settle for this.**

**Tally-Ho, and please review.**

Sherlock stood in the closet in the dining room in Mycroft's private house. Everything was ready, and now they just had to wait for his brother to come back. John was under the colossal oak table in the middle of the room, which had a tablecloth over it. His brother, no matter how brainy, would never check under the table. All the traps were ready, and everything was hidden. He heard a car pull in to the driveway outside.

3 hours earlier.

Sherlock and John were creeping along the outside of Mycroft's 'house' (it was more of a mansion than a house, but Mycroft insisted on calling it so), being careful not to kick up any gravel or step on any twigs, keeping away from any CCTV cameras, and laughing loudly. John thought it was very much like being a spy, and was holding his hands in a gun shape, and pointing it round corners. Sherlock was pretending to be a shadow, and was having extreme fun walking through bushes quietly and rolling on the ground. They both thought that the tea at the café they had stopped at before coming here tasted odd, and they both presumed that they had been drugged, one way or another, which they had. But it didn't stop them.

John saw the door they were looking for, the door that they would go through to get to the dining room. It was some 80 meters away, but they would have to go around. The had been sticking to the walls mostly, so far, apart from Sherlock, who had been walking through bushes and hedges despite the fact he could just go around them, but now they would have to walk along the tree line and then return to the wall.

John grabbed Sherlock, the most out-of-it of the pair, and pulled him down so that they were sitting against the wall, just out of reach of the cameras. He put a finger up to his lips, giving Sherlock the 'be quite' sign. Sherlock giggled silently, and copied the sign. John then stuck his head around the corner, and quickly ducked behind again. He pointed towards the corner, and did some sort of sign with his hands, with one in a fist, and the other one going round in circles. Sherlock frowned; he had no idea what John was trying to say. John tried again, adding more signals this time, putting his hands on either side of his head, and then moving his head side to side. Sherlock stifled another giggle, John looked ridiculous. John re-did the signs, and Sherlock tried to copy them. John frowned, Sherlock wasn't supposed to copy him; he was supposed to understand the information and then come up with a plan. John gave up, and whispered in Sherlock's ear.

"What are you doing?"

"Copying you, obviously."

"You're not supposed to copy me."

"Am I not?" Sherlock frowned.

"Well what am I supposed to do then?"

"Make a plan."

"A plan? A plan about what?"

"About what I just hand signalled to you!"

"What _did _you just hand signal me?"

John face palmed, Sherlock hadn't understood a thing about what he was trying to say.

"Have you never played charades?"

"No, what's _charades_?"

John face palmed again, this would be more difficult than he thought it would be.

"Ok, never mind. There's a CCTV camera behind this corner, and it sees from this corner to that corner over there" he pointed at a corner just before the door to the dining room. "How do we get from here, to there?" he asked, pointing again at the door "Without getting seen by the camera?"


	2. Chapter 2 - Plants

**YES! Chapter 2. I know it's short, but there's stuff in there I wanted to upload as soon as possible, so here you are. If you have any suggestions, ideas, things you would like to see, or things to happen, please leave me a review, because I have some ideas but yours might be way better. Also, would you like Sherlock and John to stay drugged, or recover?**

Sherlock pointed at the line of trees to their left.

"We go through the trees." He said, the delight obvious in his voice.

"The trees?"

"Yes, the trees. They're big floppy things with green leaves that like to-"

"Yes Sherlock. I know what trees are, thank you very much. But isn't there another way? A nicer way?"

"Nonsense, John. This'll be fun. Now come on!"

John glanced up from his sitting position and noticed that Sherlock had already started heading towards the trees in a slightly lop-sided way. He stood up quickly, a little too quickly, because his head started to swim slightly, and he let it sort itself out before rushing to catch up with Sherlock.

Sherlock heard John rushing to catch up with him, and smiled. He reached the first tree, and touched one of its leaves. He could feel the strange drug in his system, overwhelming his senses, loosening his grasp on what was happening, but he let it. One of the first things it did was stop you wanting to fight against its effects, and Sherlock was perfectly happy to let it do that.

John finally reached the tree line, after stumbling over some purple creases in the ground that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. He thought this was a bit questionable, surely purple creases didn't just _appear_ in the ground like that, but he decided to leave it. Purple creases had a right to do what they wanted, didn't they? He shook his head from the misty fog that had settled over it, and rested for a moment against a tree.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

It was, in fact, perfectly clear what Sherlock was doing. He was attempting to walk through a clump of Pampas Grass that had sprung up out of seemingly nowhere. Why was Sherlock attempting to walk through a towering clump of Pampas Grass that was some 3 meters high? It wasn't even in their way! He asked again, but Sherlock was too absorbed in _attempting_ to walk through the plant.

Sherlock was determined to walk through the tropical plant that had happened to challenge him, and subsequently ignored John's calls for an explanation. He was going to walk through this clump of grass-like plant and come out triumphant on the other side. He could feel the grass brushing against his bare arms, but he didn't care, even when the brushing became more of a biting or slicing sensation. _Sticks and Stones, Sherlock. Sticks and Stones. _

Sherlock finally managed to pull himself through the large plant, with a look of exhausted triumph on his face. His normally tediously tidy hair was ruffled and specked with blades of straw-like grass and feather like leaves. His arms were slightly scratched, and so was his face. His trousers and shirt were crumpled and covered in bits of grass, and one of his sleeves had a small rip in it.

"Why?"

"It challenged me."

"It _challenged_ you?"

"Yes. A gentleman never starts a fight, but he always ends it."

"Wait, wait, what? Where did _that_ come from?"

"John, stop asking stupid questions, you're wasting time!" and with that, Sherlock walked off into the treeline.

"Sherlock, you _walked through a plant that wasn't even in our way_!"

But Sherlock ignored him, and John had to run to catch up to him. John attempted to walk alongside Sherlock, but his stride was too long, so he found himself lagging behind.

"Sherlock, wait up!"


	3. Chapter 3 - Trees

**Hello! I'm not really sure what happened when I was writing this. I was feeling rather... insane. Or more so than usual. That should explain the strangeness of this chapter, but in advance I do apologise for the weirdness. I blame the mystery drugs (as always).  
Also, it is possible that I will make this a crossover. But, it is up to you. I wouldn't want to make you dislike the story if I changed it. If I did change it, it will include the Doctor. And I promise (I'll try) it'll be amusing. Because the Doctor is always fun to work with.**

**So, to sum up, sorry for the weirdness, it will improve, please tell me if you want it to include the Doctor, and as always, review. Reviews are gold, and gold keeps the nasty monsters away. We wouldn't want any character deaths, now would we?**

Sherlock and John walked behind the trees toward the other side of the house, keeping hidden in the shadows so that the security camera didn't see them. Sherlock was a bit ahead, and paused while John caught up with him. John walked towards him, then past him. It took him a few moments to notice that Sherlock wasn't walking alongside him, but he did eventually notice, and he turned to look at Sherlock.

Sherlock was looking at a tree that John had just passed. No, looking was not the right word. He was… gazing at the tree like it held the answer to life, the universe, and everything in between.

"Uh… Sherlock? What are you doing?"

Sherlock didn't answer for a moment, almost as if he was trying to formulate a credible answer. His eyes never left the tree.

"I'm just… watching the tree."

John frowned. Surely one didn't _watch_ trees? People usually watched birds, or butterflies, or barnacles, not _trees_. He was sure you couldn't really _watch_ a tree. You could _look_ at it, but not _watch_ it. Or so he thought.

"Which tree?" John cursed himself for asking such a stupid question. He wanted to know _how _Sherlock was watching the tree, seeing as you can't watch trees, not _which one_ he was watching! _Stupid mouth!_

"That one." Sherlock said, without indicating in any way which one he was referring to.

"Why?" John cursed himself again for asking such a trivial question. It didn't matter _why_ he was watching the tree, but_ how_. He gave himself a mental note to have a word with his mouth when they got back to the flat.

"Because… I am enraptured by it."

"Wait, what? Run that over me again."

"It is simply… jubilant."

"Huh?"

"Ecstatic. Rapturous. Enchanting."

"The tree?"

"Of course the tree. What else could be so… utterly delightful?"

And then Sherlock was walking towards the tree, like a moth slowly walking towards a flame. He reached his arm out and rested it lightly against the trunk of the tree. The bark was cool to his touch, rough and wild yet calming and soft. He stared intently at the tree, following the lines of the wood with his fingers.

"Do you two… want to be left alone?"

Sherlock didn't move his head to look in John's direction.

"Yes, if you would."

John walked towards the edge of the treeline, and looked across at the house/mansion. He could see lights on in some of the rooms, but there was no one in there. Mycroft was out, and he didn't like having body-guards hanging around his private home when he wasn't there. John glanced quickly at his watch, and saw that it said 19.20. He looked back up at the house, seeing the shadows cast on to the lawn, and tracing them back to their origin, while the numbers 19.20 bounced around in his head. 19.20. 19.20.

19.20!

John looked back at his watch again. 19.21. He gaped. They had planned on being in the house by now. He quickly rushed over to Sherlock.

He reached Sherlock's tree, and noticed Sherlock right away. He was perched on one of the branches, caressing the bark lightly and whispering frivolous words at the tree.

"Sherlock!" he whispered incredibly loudly.

"Sherlock! We need to go now!

Sherlock turned to John, slight confusion showing on his face.

"Why?"

"Because" John checked his watch again. "It's 19.26!"

Sherlock's eyes widened.

"But I can't go!"

"Why not? We need to go now, or we'll run out of time!"

Sherlock looked longingly at the tree.

"But I don't want to leave. What about Jacaranda?"

"What?"

"Jacaranda."

"What's that?"

"The tree."

"You want to stay with the tree?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Sherlock paused. He fumbled over his words.

"Because… I love her."

"You love _her_?"

"Yes. I love Jacaranda. She understands me." Sherlock said, patting the tree fondly.

John closed his eyes and let out a sigh of breath. Sherlock falling in love was defiantly not part of the plan. Tree or otherwise.

"Sherlock. We need to move now otherwise Mycroft will get back before we have finished setting everything up." John opened the bag he had been carrying, and held out a camcorder. He raised his eyes questioningly. Sherlock looked at the camcorder, then at the tree, and then back at the camcorder.

"You're right."

And then they set off past the trees and towards the house.


	4. Chapter 4 - Problems

**YES! We have reached chapter four, people! Yep, it's official!**

**ANYWAY! This is a danger chapter. Or, it is now. It is now officially coined a 'danger chapter'.  
It didn't really need to be a danger chapter, but I needed to have a filler chapter while a ponder weather to convert this to a Doctor Who crossover or not. Any you lot aren't exactly helping! A little review and suggestion would be nice. The people who have reviewed, here are some imaginary teapots. Thank you! But I really need to know, otherwise I will stop the story until I have sufficient evidence from you lot about which one I should do.**

**Now you will read the 999 word chapter. Enjoy!**

Sherlock and John walked along the tree line, back to the side of the house. They leant against the wall while they caught their breath, although they weren't out of breath to start with.

"John, I miss Jacaranda."

John looked up at his tall friend. Sherlock was not the sort of person to outwardly admit that he missed something. Then again, Sherlock was not the sort of person to randomly fall in love. Especially with trees. But then again, who was he to say Sherlock was heartless?

John decided he would distract Sherlock from his new-found love by getting into the house and setting the traps and cameras they had brought with them. He looked to his left, along the side of the large building, and spotted the door they had been heading to. It was about 7 meters away, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was, he hadn't noticed the camera placed directly above it. He cursed himself for being so un-observant. Even Anderson would have spotted that.

But if it was so obvious, why hadn't Sherlock pointed it out?

"Sherlock, you know that camera over there…" John pointed at the camera in question, and Sherlock nodded his head.

"… why didn't you point it out to me?"

"Because I wanted to see how long it would take for you to notice. It was an experiment."

"So when did you notice it?"

"I noticed it two minutes ago."

"So it's not just me being unobservant?"

"It appears not."

John frowned.

"You're being awfully honest. Are you feeling okay?"

"Sure." And to prove his point, Sherlock clutched at his head and fell to the ground.

"Sherlock! What's wrong?" John shouted at him.

Sherlock had his eyes clamped shut, and he was holding his head with a death-like grip. He was curled in on himself, protecting his important organs in his moment of weakness. He was unresponsive.

"Sherlock! Tell me what's wrong!" John pleaded. He was frantic now. Sherlock had just collapsed and he had no idea what to do.

John put his hand on Sherlock's tensed shoulder, trying to comfort him. His medic instincts came back to him in a flash, and he knew what to do.

"_Sherlock. You need to breath_."

Sherlock started breathing again. At first it was quite laboured, but he soon got his breathing under control with the help of John. He hadn't noticed that he had stopped breathing, but John's panicked voice brought him back to his senses. He slowly relaxed his muscles, and carefully, tentatively, removed his hands from his head. His hands were shaking as he slowly uncurled from his position and the ground, and gratefully accepted John's outstretched hand. He looked at John, his smile unsteady but none the less, still a true smile.

"Thank you."

John smiled, relief plastered across his face like a child's papier-mâché.

"Are you allright now?"

"Yes."

"What was that? Will it happen again?"

"It was the drug. It… disagrees with my system."

"Sherlock." John said in his warning tone that meant 'You  
will tell me the truth or there will be trouble'. "Have you been taking?"

"No." Sherlock said, looking into John's eyes to prove his honesty.

"I believe you. Will it happen again?"

"Possibly, but it is unlikely. My brain tried to fight the drug, but it couldn't. I'm... worried. The drug is like nothing I've ever taken, and the symptoms don't match anything I've heard of."

John pondered over this. Sherlock was right; the drug was unlike anything he had heard of before. Maybe it was something new. He shuddered. What he didn't need right now was being used as a new drug development experiment. Think what Lestrade would say!

Sherlock suddenly turned back at John.

"That, however, does not solve our current predicament."

John realised he had rather forgotten what this 'predicament' was. He decided to tell Sherlock so.

"Which is…?"

"How do we get into the house?"

John turned to survey the house. They did appear to be outside it. He looked around. There didn't appear to be a door in the immediate vincity. But, he spied a door about 7 meters to his left, and went to walk towards it when Sherlock pulled him back.

"Whu?"

"John. We need to focus. In the time that we have been talking, fighting the effects of the drugs, and talking, you seem to have forgotten everything that has previously happened."

"I _have_?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

Sherlock sighed. "The fact that you want me to prove it proves it."

John gave him The Dreaded Confused Face. Sherlock sighed at his lack of understanding. He started his monologue of rapid-speech. If John didn't understand, at least he would be sufficiently impressed to _shut up_.

"Okay. So, you ask me to prove it because you're insecure. Sceptical. Unbelieving, even. If you could remember what had happened, you would have told me something that had happened in order to prove me wrong- out of spite more than anything else. However, you offered up no such information; therefore you don't have the information to give. Therefore, you have forgotten."

"Um…"

Sherlock linked his arm in John, and dragged him off, away from the original plan, which was to enter the house's back door.

"Come on, no time like the present!" he said briskly, as he dragged John towards a small window. The window was one of those windows that pantries in the cellar had, the sort that was small and offered little or no light, and was barely, or never, locked. He gestured at it, because John was looking about in a fond and dazed sort of way. Sherlock knelt down and pulled at the edges of the window, opening it from the outside. The cold, wet soil could be felt through his thin trousers, but he didn't mind. John's expression went quickly to one of slight horror, as he realised what Sherlock was implying.

How on earth were they going to fit through that_ tiny_ window?


	5. Chapter 5 - Windows and Handcuffs

**Yes, we have landed at chapter 5! Thank you for everyone who had reviewed, favourite, followed, communitied, and reviewed again. Here is the window scene.**

"Come on John, ladies first."

"What!? I'm not a lady."

"Yes you are. Now go through the window."

"What?! I can't fit through that window! It's_ tiny_!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, and folded his arms.

"Really, you're going to do this now?"

"Do what now?"

"Make a big fuss about how the window is too small, just because you're scared to go through."

"No I'm not!"

"Prove it then!"

"But it's too small!" John said, exasperated.

"Thus proving my point." Sherlock said, a smirk forming on his face.

John glared at Sherlock. Sherlock just raised an eyebrow, the smirk still on his face.

"FINE! I'll go through the window! Step aside, Sherlock."

Sherlock paused for a moment, in thought, before saying. "Actually, I'll go through first. You'll just waste time."

John stared at him. He was just_ impossible_. Sherlock opened the window a bit wider, and then looked inside.

"All clear."

This just made John even more annoyed. _Look who's stalling now_, he thought. Typical Sherlock.  
Sherlock looked back at John, seeming to read his mind as he said "Now, you wouldn't want me to get hit over the head with a saucepan, now would you?"

And with that, Sherlock went through the open window. First, he stuck his head through, and then squeezed his shoulders through. He pulled himself through, his narrow waist easily fitting through the window. He jumped down from the window, which was near the celling in the room he was in, and gestured to John. John put his bag through the window, and Sherlock took it. Sherlock then gestured for John to go through.

John gulped. This was not going to be big on dignity. He stuck his head through the window. So good, so far. He pushed his shoulders through, having to work them through a bit, but nonetheless getting through. He pulled himself through a little more, until he felt his hips against the window frame. He tried pulling himself through, but he couldn't. _Damn it_. He tried twisting his hips, but he still couldn't get through. He was stuck.

"Um… Sherlock." He whispered at the darkness.

"Sherlock… I appear to be… stuck."

He heard moving around in the darkness, and then saw a slim figure walk over to the window.

"Sherlock?" he whispered again.

"John, hold on to my arms, and I'll pull you through."

"Wait Sherlock-"

But Sherlock was already pulling him. He could feel the window still rub against his hips, but suddenly, he was free, and he flew through the window, toppling them both. John and Sherlock lay on the cold, hard ground of the pantry, trying their best not to make a sound. Sherlock managed to get up, and walked around the corner to the main pantry, and froze. He heard John getting up, loudly, and walking over to his side. He heard John open his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, he shushed him. He could see someone sitting on one of the chairs, feet resting on the large table in the centre of the room. The figure seemed unarmed, but Sherlock wasn't taking any chances. There was something wrong with the figure; the way they were sitting. It just didn't seem… _right_, somehow. He picked up a saucepan that was lying on the ground, and walked into the main pantry.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked, brandishing the saucepan. He could see better from here, and he could tell that the man sitting in the chair seemed unfazed. The man was also eating some sort of preservative out of a jar, sticking his finger in and the sticking it in his mouth. The man raised the arm holding the jar, and Sherlock heard a metallic clang, as his arm suddenly stopped. He was handcuffed to the table.

**Guess who it is yet? It's not that difficult to guess. If you have suggestions or anything, review now please.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Complicated

**Enjoy guessing? Or was it a bit too obvious? Anyway, here he is...**

"Well, I _seem_ to have gotten myself handcuffed to this _rather_ heavy table." The stranger said, gesturing to his handcuffs and the table.

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the stranger's remark.

"Who, me? Oh, I'm nobody."

Sherlock was suddenly standing next to the figure, inched away from his face with that glare in his eyes that John knew so well.

"_Tell me_."

"John. John Smith."

"Sorry, _what_?"

"John Smith. Sorry, but do I know you?"

Sherlock suddenly rushed towards the figure, and punched him square in the jaw. John gaped, before returning to his senses and pulling Sherlock away from the man he had just attacked. He then went to tend to the man, who was only just raising his head, grimacing.

The stranger took one look at John, and frowned.

"Blimey! Is that you, John Watson?"

This caught John completely off-guard. He reeled for a moment before managing to confirm the strange man.

"Um... yes."

The stranger's face broke out in a wide grin, which was even visible in the dimness of the kitchen.

"Why _hello_! Gosh, I haven't seen you in, well, a little over 30 years! How_ are_ you? Leg all right?"

"Um… what… how… Sherlock…?" John stumbled, lost for words. How on earth did this man know him? Who was John Smith?

Sherlock cleared his throat, and then looked sternly at the man.

"Oh, yes, nearly forgot! I'm the Doctor."

Johns eyes widened. "The Doctor? As in, _the_ Doctor?"

The man smiled. "The one and only."

"But you looked different. Did you regenerate?"

"No, I didn't actually."

"Well then how did you…?"

"Weeell, it's all a bit… sorta… well I suppose it's a bit… wibeldy-wobildy timey-wimey."

"What?"

Sherlock seemed annoyed at the Doctor response.

"Doctor, could you be a bit _less_ vague?"

"It's complicated."

Sherlock leaned in towards the Doctor, staring him in the eyes.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm_ clever,_ then!"

The Doctor sighed.

"Look, if you think you're so clever, why don't you find my Sonic Screwdriver and un-cuff me?"

"Explanation first, Sonic Screwdriver later."

"_Sherlock_." John said, exasperated after listening to the two geniuses.

"I'm waiting, Doctor."

The Doctor seemed to give up, and decided to tell them.

"Ahh! Fine. Well, when you met me before, I was all bow-ties and floppy hair, wasn't I?"

Both Sherlock and John nodded.

"Yes, well that was my eleventh regeneration. I am currently in my tenth."

"Well then ho-" John started, before he was rudely interrupted.

"Yes, how. Now this is where you need to listen carefully. Sherlock?"

Sherlock nodded.

"You remember how I told you that interacting with your own past was dangerous?"

"Yes."

"Well, it still is. But at certain times, in certain circumstances, interacting with your past or future self is vitally important. I do it on rare occasions, and this occasion is one of them. What happened, is that my eleventh reincarnation, let's call him 'Smithy', travelled back in time to talk to me, which is past him, so now me, and he told me, that is, now me, that future me, but not 'Smithy' future me, would meet you two for the first time. That is my first time, not yours, as you've already met the Doctor, that is, 'Smithy', haven't you. Yes, so him, future me, told present me that I would meet you two, and that I would need to know a bit about you. You know, who's who, looks, personality, do's and don'ts, that sort of thing. He also told me what I needed to do, right now, and what to explain and so forth. Mind you, not much. Foreknowledge itself is dangerous, but too much is catastrophic. Ohh, _catastrophic_. Now that's a good word. Cat-a-stroph-ic."

"Doctor."

"Ah, yes, anyway. So, he told me about you two, and he also told me, I mean 'Smithy' told me, that I'd need to send myself, my future 'Smithy' self, back in time to my present self, so that I knew what I was going to do right now. He told me that I'd have to tell myself, but my present self, when I am 'Smithy', that when me now becomes 'Smithy', I must go back in time to tell my past self, but my current self, the message, including the bit about telling my past present self when I am my future self that-"

"Right, okay Doctor, that's enough." John said, grimacing as he tried to understand what the Doctor had just told him. It was very confusing, and the way the Doctor said it didn't help. To be honest, the banging he could hear above him didn't help either, but it was mainly the Doctor's fault. He still didn't understand. Sherlock explained it for him in simpler, clearer terms, like he was reading his mind. Heck, maybe he_ was_.

"Basically, the future Doctor will tell his past self about us, what will happen, and also to pass the message on."

"Oh, okay." That made much more sense. He still didn't fully understand it, but it made more sense. Probably.

**Enjoy? Understand? (no, me neither). Want more? Then review.  
If you have a suggestion or improvement, or something you'd like to see, please tell me so. I take all suggestions and stuff really seriously.**


	7. Chapter 7 - Arguments

**So sorry for the long wait! No one seems to want to give me ideas any more. D:  
Because it seems to work for other people, and because I forgot to mention about the fruit jar jelly thing, I thought I might add some Jam and Marmalade. Everyone should have a fruit jelly thing in their life.**

**Thank you to alone on the water, Syblime, 49478, and Ballykissangel. Your continued support really makes a difference, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I certainly enjoyed writing it.**

"So, now that I've explained-"

"Really, Doctor, I'd hardly call that explaining." Sherlock told him, a look of bizarre amusement on his face.

"Well you_ understood_, didn't you?"

"Only because I'm a genius."

"Oi! Less of the genius thing! Just because you think you're all high and mighty, doesn't mean the rest of us aren't important!" The Doctor told him. He then pointed at John. "See? John is important. Where would you be without him?"

John answered before Sherlock could make something fanciful up. "He'd be dead. First night I met him, I saved his life. And the first time we met you, you saved his life. Not so ordinary now, are we _Sherlock_?"

The Doctor grinned at John. Oh, he was good! He was very good! Sassy and brave and loyal and positive and determined and sarcastic. Oh, he was really good!

"_But_… he_ did_ explain why you are an earlier Doctor." John said.

"I explained it _first_-"

"_Yes_, but weren't really making any sense."

"_What_? Of course I was making sense."

"_Um_, no you weren't." John said.

"Would you please stop arguing like girls and look at the bigger pictu-" Sherlock said, before he was interrupted by The Doctor and John each taking a sharp inhale of breath.

"You can't say that." The Doctor said.

"No, because that's offensive to women." John said.

"_What_? How can-"

Suddenly, an alarm sounded. The noise echoed around the pantry, bouncing off the walls and being reflected into the centre. The trio looked at each other in shock.

"What? Mycroft doesn't have sirens."  
"How can that be happening? It's impossible!"  
"What turned the alarms on?"  
"Is it connected to the police department?"  
"Does Mycroft know?"  
"Is it an alien?"  
"Why have the alarms sounded now, of all times?"  
"This is illogical. Doctor, explain it NOW!"

The Doctor shushed the other two, cutting through the babble with a knife, and engulfing them in silence, apart from the wailing sirens that still sounded.

"First of all, can someone turn that _bloody_ noise off?" John shouted.

"Sherlock? Can you make them stop?"

"I'll see what I can do."

Sherlock stood on the large oak table and inspected the siren on the ceiling. It blared and occasionally gave off a dull red glow, probably meant to be a warning but not really doing much. He took some tools out of his pocket and started to fiddle around, attempting to take off the cover and dismantle the thing. But the cover wouldn't come off, and after a few fruitless moments of trying he looked down at the Doctor.

"Can't you use your buzzy thing?"

"My what?"

"The buzzy green lighty up thingy that opens doors and locks."

"My Sonic Screwdriver?"

"Yes, that one."

"My Sonic Screwdriver isn't green."

"Oh. Of course not." Sherlock mumbled something under his breath, something about 'future knowledge' and 'paradox' and 'wrong time zone'.

"Can someone just shut that thing up!?" John shouted from the ground, angry at the grounding alarms.

"Yes John. Doctor, Sonic Screwdriver?" Sherlock said.

"The Change Room, mahogany cabinet, third draw."

"You don't have it with you?" Sherlock asked, puzzled.

"Do you think I would stay handcuffed to this table with an almost empty jar of orange marmalade if I had the Sonic Screwdriver?"

"Wait, you were eating MARMALADE?" John asked.

"mh. Something wrong?"

"Marmalade is disgusting!"

The Doctor looked at John in horror. "How _dare_ you. Who do you think you are?"

"John Hamish Watson of the Saint Bart's Loyal Only Jam Incorporation, formerly known as Splodgee (SBLOJI), divine Jam taster and tester."

"No…."

"Yes."

"You_ repel_ me."

Sherlock decided that he had to intervene before this became all-out war.

"What? Really? 'You repel me' is something I would say, honestly, and John, there are only 4 members in SBLOJI, so don't look so superior, really it suits me better. You should both know better that this!"

The Doctor and John looked at their feet in shame.

"Right. Thank you. Now I can go and get the Doctor's Sonic Screwdriver without worrying that you two declare war on each other while I'm gone. John, with me."

"But I-"

"No, you're coming with me."

John realised that nothing was going to convince Sherlock otherwise, so he followed him.

"Come along, John."

"Where are we going?"

"You heard the Doctor, the Change Room."

Sherlock and John left the pantry stealthily, leaving the Doctor still handcuffed to the table. Sherlock and John made a wonderful team. Pity about the clashing ego's, but then, you couldn't have everything. Still, the Doctor knew that _his_ future adventures with the boys from 221B would be fun, and he was looking forward to every second. Because he knew what was coming up_. The fall._

**As always, please review with good, bad, criticism, requests, ideas, and all the other stuff. Reviews are gold. GOLD!**


	8. Chapter 8 - Itch

**Sorry, this is only a little chapter. I have been very busy. Ice Cold Killer has had some work, and Blue Rectangle is on a roll. Sorry everyone here. I have also been attempting to write some StarTrek 2009/Sherlock crossover, but it's slow going. I have only seen StarTrek: Into Darkness, and I have only seen it once, but it was cool. I know nothing of StarTrek, so it's not very good. It's mainly to explore the differences between Khan and Sherlock. Unfortunately, you won't be seeing it anytime soon. Sorry. But it's rubbish.**

The Doctor waited in the pantry for the boys to return. He waited some more. He waited a lot more. He waited even more. He began to get an itch. He tried to itch it with his free hand. It wasn't really working. It fact, he only made it more itchy, so he stopped. But the itch was still itching. He decided he was going to try to itch it with his cuffed hand. He reached his hand over to his other arm, where the itch was, but his hand stopped just short of it. He tried twisting around, but he couldn't quite reach the itchy bit. He leaned across to the leg of the table that his hand was cuffed to, and tried again. He leaned just a little bit over, and banged his head on the corner of the table. It _hurt_. A lot. Itch forgotten about, he continued to nurse his offended head with his free hand, and realised just a little too late that that hand was all that was stopping him from falling off the chair he was perched precariously on. He landed on the ground with a _thump_, and groaned. Only then did he realise that because of his cuffed hand, he couldn't get up again. Or move. He was, for want of a better, less embarrassing word, _stuck_.

~What seemed like a long while later~

The Doctor finally stood up, and stretched. His whole body ached after being in such an awkward position for such a long time. It was lucky he had found that paperclip on the floor; otherwise he would never have gotten up. He rubbed his wrist where the handcuff had been, and looked up just as Sherlock and John entered the room. Sherlock was holding his Sonic Screwdriver and was wearing a pirate hat, and a fluffy purple boa. John had a red streak in his hair, and was wearing a pink tutu and a luminous safety jacket. His shoes were also covered in red, and he had made a trail of red footprints across the floor. The Doctor realised that Sherlock was also wearing shiny red high-heels.

"What happened?" the Doctor asked.

"Um, we got your Sonic Screwdriver. But it seems that you already got out." John said.

"What happened?" the Doctor asked again.

"Um… Sherlock decided that he wanted to be a pirate." John said, as way of explaining things.

"I, Princess John Watson, have always aspired to be a pirate." Sherlock told them, sticking his nose in the air, and putting his arm to his chest.

"Since when did pirated wear high-heels?" the Doctor asked.

"High-heels, Doctor, are cool. And extremely fashionable. Of course, I wouldn't think you could understand that concept, seeing as you have absolutely no sense of fashion." Sherlock said.

"Are you two… drugged?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes." John said.

"Since when?"

"Since about 5 o'clock today, although that time may be inaccurate." Sherlock explained.

"With what?"

"Absolutely no idea."

The Doctor frowned. He knew Sherlock's past of drug abuse and experimenting, but if there was a drug he didn't know about, then that was worrying.

"So what happened?" the Doctor asked again. "Whatever it was, it took an awful long time."

"Yes. It was… quite unusual, to say the least." John said.

"Yes, it was at that." Sherlock agreed.

**Next chapter you see what happened.**


End file.
